Almost
After dinner that evening, Ashton-Kirk looked over the last edition of the papers. About eight o'clock he arose, stretched himself contentedly, and then went to a stand, a drawer of which he pulled open. From this he took several black, squat-looking pistols of the automatic type, and one by one balanced them in his hand. Selecting the one which struck his fancy, he slipped it into his pocket and prepared to go out.
"Shall you leave any word, sir?" asked Stumph, in the lower hall.
The secret agent paused for a moment. Then he scribbled something on a card and gave it to the man.
"If I do not return by morning, get Fuller on the telephone and read this to him," said he.
"Very good, sir."
At the station Ashton-Kirk was forced to wait some little time for a train; and when, finally, he rang the bell at Okiu's door in Eastbury, it was a trifle past nine o'clock.
There was a delay after he rang; the house was gloomy; not a light showed at any of the windows; from all indications it may have been deserted. But through the tail of his eye he caught a slight stirring of a curtain at a window upon the lower floor.
"They seem to be very careful," mused the secret agent. "I am much favored, as, apparently, they do not admit any one who is not thoroughly convincing."
After another brief space, the door was opened. Ashton-Kirk saw a dim hall and a short man of enormous girth.